Sister Lily
by LynstHolin
Summary: Lily Evans/Lucius Malfoy AU-Middle Ages    Lucius is A duke. Lily is a healer summoned to attend to Narcissa.


AU-this was written for a Medieval-themed contest on deviantART. Also, this is a universe where Muggles know that wizards exist.

...

The woman in the red cloak carried a wicker basket and walked along a path that wound past checker-board fields of wheat and rye. The peasants halted their work when she passed them, and some of them spoke to each other in hissing, carrying whispers: _heretic, heathen, devil-woman_. Others approached her timidly, holding out a hand with an infected cut or lifting a skirt just enough to display a suppurating sore. As the women bent her head down to use her wand to heal, a long ginger braid slipped out from under her hood. Those that she healed paid her with a meal: some rough bread, sour-smelling cheese, and tepid water from a bucket.

After assuring a heavily-pregnant woman that her unborn child was healthy, the healer continued on her way. The stronghold of the Duke was visible from quite a ways away. Its six-foot-thick curtain wall enclosed an entire village. It was built in a curve of the River Avon, part of its moat provided by nature. The sentries that guarded the entrance nodded to the healer as she crossed the drawbridge. The portcullis was open, and she walked into the bailey. The business of the castle and its village went on around her: a little girl herding geese, a woman hanging freshly-dyed yarn out to dry, an old man teaching boys how to fly their brooms. No one here importuned the healer; they all knew what she was there for.

The healer walked to the other side of the bailey, to where the castle proper was. A boy in livery was waiting for her. He led her to the Duke's private chambers, into a luxurious bedroom. A woman lay in the enormous bed, so pale and still that the healer frowned. "Am I too late?" she asked.

A man standing next to the bed looked up. He was tall, handsome n a sharp-faced way, with long blond hair that fell loose to his shoulders. He was dressed all in black and silver. "Lily?" he asked with a smile. "Is that really you?"

The healer removed her cloak and placed it on top of a chest, revealing a plain brown dress. "Do not pretend that we are old friends, Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius' light gray eyes narrowed. "You speak boldly to your superior."

Lily approached the bed and lifted the woman's hand. "The Sisterhood does not recognize man-given titles. We are all equal before the Great Mother." She frowned. "Her pulse is weak." Lily drew her wand and traced it in the air above the woman from head to toe. She sucked her breath through her teeth. "It's too late. She has a sickness where the body turns on itself. It's spread too far for me to save her."

Lucius grabbed Lily roughly by the arm. "You must try!" Lily glared up at him wordlessly, and Lucius released her and spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I am sorry, Lily. But it's my _wife_."

"Call me Sister." Lily laid a hand on Narcissa's brow. The Duke's wife's skin was yellow, and her eyes were sunken. "We'd best let her sleep. Unconsciousness is a blessing, at this point." Lily opened her basket and rummaged through it, pulling out a cloth-wrapped packet. "If she wakes, have this made into a tea. It will let her sleep again." Lucius stared at the packet, but didn't take it; a muscle worked in his left cheek. Lily shrugged and dropped the herbs on the bed-side table. "I will go. There is nothing more I can do." She put her cloak back on, picked up her basket, and made to leave, but she found her way blocked by Lucius.

He stood before the doorway, arms spread so there was no way that Lily could get past him. "Why do you pretend that there is nothing between us, Lily?"

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

The culmination of the Harvest Home festival was the bonfire in the bailey in front of the castle. Abraxas Malfoy himself lit the fire, plunging a burning torch into the pile of branches and rubbish that had accumulated over the past week. A trio began making music, the flute, dulcimer, and tambor playing a merry jig.

Lucius stood thirty feet from the fire with his friends; he had just come home after a year of studying with a legendary wizard in Jerusalem. The group of young men were eyeing the young women, taking note of those who danced with more than one man; those were the unmarried girls. The Duke's son's gaze was drawn to a flame-haired beauty who laughed loudly as she and another girl joined hands and spun in a dizzy circle. "Who is _that_?"

Marcellus Flint gave Lucius a knowing look. "You don't recognize her? It's the cloth importer's daughter."

"You are joking." The girl had followed him around like a puppy for years, but she had never looked like _that_.

"Not at all. The miracles that time can perform, eh?"

Lucius stared at the girl. _She must be about sixteen by now_, he thought. _Old enough_. Once upon a time, she had been scrawny and unkempt, an irritating little tomboy with a perpetually dirty face. Now she was lovely, wearing a moss-green linen dress that showed her new curves. The bonfire illuminated her curls and her eyes.

Marcellus smirked. "Another notch on your wand holster?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes when Lily began dancing with a tall, gangly youth with messy black hair; the potter's son, if he recalled correctly. The girl laughed merrily, staring up at the boy boldly. Lucius waited until Lily was done dancing with James to approach her. "Will you give me the honor of a dance?" He held his hand out to the girl, and he could see her blushing under her freckles in the light from the bonfire.

"Yes, my lord," she said with eyes downcast, suddenly shy. Lucius could feel the tension in her body when he put one hand on her waist. He pulled her to him, close enough to smell her freshly-washed hair. Unlike the peasant girls Lucius usually amused himself with, the hand that he held in his as they danced was soft and smooth. The girl made a small sound of protest as he drew her even closer, close enough for him to feel the shape of her body through her gown.

Lucius had a smug look on his face. They all gave in eventually, and they enjoyed it. It mattered not one bit that she was the daughter of a respectable middle-class merchant-he would have her still. There was a strict hierarchy: Pure-blood, Half-blood, Muggle-born, Muggle. The girl was a witch, but her parents were Muggles. The girl literally could not say no to him, though Lucius preferred to seduce a girl until she was eager to do what she had to do. He lowered the hand that was on her waist down to her hip.

"Lily! Your mother wants you to come home. It's late."

Lucius looked up to see the cloth importer. The middle-aged man looked quite anxious. "I am enjoying your daughter's company," Lucius said.

"Ah, your lordship, her mother is fostering a pair of twins for a neighbor who's taken sick. We really need her at home." The cloth merchant twisted his hands together nervously.

Lucius could see people drawing together into clumps, staring and boy Lily had been dancing with earlier clenched his fists, his face grim. Everyone knew what it meant when the Duke's son showed interest in a girl. A peasant girl's family would welcome it; it would mean an extra Galleon or two, or even income for life, if the girl produced a bastard. The middle class looked at things a bit differently, alas.

"I really should go to my mother, my lord," Lily whispered. Her green eyes were wide, close to panic.

Lucius had no choice but to let her go. He could not force her in front of half his father's vassals.

The next day, he stopped in the cloth importer's shop. Lily's mother greeted him with more coolness than usual. "What is my lord seeking today? We have some lovely silk brocade that came all the way from Cathay. It's in your colors, black and silver." The woman looked sleep-deprived, with dark circles around her eyes. Two infants fussed in a basket under a table.

Lucius fingered the bolt of cloth that was set out before him. It would make a good tunic for when he had to attend the King's court, but he was not interested in fabric today. "Your lovely daughter is not working this afternoon?" Lucius inquired.

Lily's mother tried unsuccessfully to keep from scowling. "My lord, she has left with her father. Her fiancé has rejected her, and she is joining the Sisterhood."

Lucius did his best to disguise his shock. The Sisterhood? A convent in name only. The women there kept to the old, pre-Christian ways, worshipping a goddess and rejecting hierarchy. The only reason the Mother Church hadn't executed them all for heresy was that they were witches, and powerful ones, at that. "Her fiancé must be a fool."

"Men can be quite selfish, forgetting how fragile a girl's reputation can be, my lord." The woman's voice was sharp, accusatory.

"It's a shame that such a pretty girl will be locked up with a bunch of other women."

"You know how it is, my lord. When a girl from a decent family has been compromised, she has no choice but the nunnery." The woman gave him a stony look. "My lord, will you buy anything today?"

Lucius left empty-handed.

THE PRESENT

Lily stared hard at Lucius. "What, exactly, is it between us?" Her tone of voice was calm, but her cheeks were red and her breathing was rapid.

"Friendship. I still remember how you followed me around all those years. You learned how to duel and how to ride a broomstick by watching me train. And how to swear."

"What I remember is a selfish young man who didn't care that pursuing his base desires could ruin me." Lily's eyes bored into Lucius', green battling gray. "Will you move, please?"

"It's a waste, a beautiful woman like you shut away in a convent." Lucius reached a hand out, touching a ringlet of Lily's hair that had escaped the braid. "Don't you ever long for a man's touch, a baby at your breast? It's not too late."

Lily's wand was drawn in a second. "You do not lay hands on a Sister," she said through gritted teeth. "And with your wife on her death bed. For shame! Let me leave, or you will suffer the consequences."

Lucius raised his hands and sidled away from the door. "My apologies... Sister. I assumed that you would share the same warm memories that I do. See my treasurer for payment for your services." Lily brushed past him without speaking. He watched her recede down the corridor, her scarlet cloak billowing around her.

...

The wailing of maid-servants woke Lucius the next morning; Narcissa had died in the night. A wake was held, the traditional three days, and a priest performed the funeral mass. As Lucius knelt in the chapel next to his son, he tried to keep only his wife in his thoughts. But Lucius could not banish emerald-colored eyes and flame-red hair from his mind's eye.


End file.
